Irvan, Who Never Lost Faith, Still Beating Odds

DAYTONA 500 - THE SPORTS COLUMN

February 18, 1996|By Larry Guest of The Sentinel Staff

DAYTONA BEACH — Jordan Irvan, barely 2 years old at the time, kept darting into the hospital waiting room, lighting up the collection of morose adults with her beaming smile. One by one, the adults held her, hugged her, trying to absorb her innocent bliss, almost as if she were the only conduit back to happier times.

Little Jordan was a citadel of comfort in her playful glee.

She simply was not old enough to comprehend what was making them so despondent there in a Michigan hospital - that her famous father, stock-car driver Ernie Irvan, was tenuously clinging to life in a surgical theater, given a threadbare 10 percent chance by doctors to survive the day. In a wreck during practice at Michigan International Speedway that morning, Irvan incurred massive brain, lung and facial injuries.

Because of a tire failure, Irvan spun into the wall so hard he suffered severe deceleration injuries - sort of internal whiplash as his brain, lungs and other organs were violently and momentarily displaced. The facial bones around one eye were crushed, ripping into the muscles that control the eye.

Maybe Jordan knew more than anyone suspected. Her father not only beat the odds that night, but today, just 18 months later, will start on the front row of the Daytona 500. Miraculously. It will say ''Texaco/Havoline'' on Ernie's hood today, though the lettering should say, simply, ''Miracle.''

They said Jordan's daddy wouldn't live. He lived.

They said he'd never regain his coordination and strength. Through relentless, daily workouts, his physique returned.

They said he'd never see properly to race. After operations just two months ago to re-align both eyeballs, most of the double-vision has been eliminated.

They said he'd never drive at the top level again. He led 110 laps at Phoenix last fall, then won one of the twin 125-mile qualifiers on Thursday.

Today, he has an excellent chance to take ''car-drivin's'' biggest plum for the second time. And if he bangs a fender or scrapes a wall along the way, keep in mind that he was, after all, ''Swervin' Irvan,'' for all those years even before he needed things like that tiny, circular mirror on his driver's side window sill to help his peripheral vision.

''I'm really fortunate that none of my skills left,'' Ernie said this week. ''All my memories of racing never left. I don't know if that's because the doctors did such a good job, but that's what enabled me to come back. Basically, all I had to do was be physically able to do it.''

Irvan never lost the faith. Team publicist and close friend Brian VanDercook says there was only one day when Irvan was discouraged to the point that he didn't work out. That was last spring when doctors advised they would have to do yet another in the infinite series of surgical procedures, this time to correct an aneurysm just below his brain. After one day to sulk, Irvan was right back in the gym, working even harder.

Irvan's miracle is the continuation of an unfathomable saga for the Texaco team, which endured the tragedy of superstar Davey Allison, killed in a 1993 helicopter crash. Irvan took over as driver of the car. ''It's like an epic film that never ends,'' VanDercook said. ''My barber said the other day our team is like the Kennedys - dramatic triumphs and terrible tragedies.''

For VanDercook, the sight of tiny, giggling Jordan Irvan being hugged by grief-stricken adults is just one of the poignant memories still vivid from Ernie's pivotal first day in that Michigan hospital. After 12 hours in the surgical waiting room with Irvan's family, VanDercook finally descended to the hospital lobby and a moving sight. ''It was full with people from other teams. One cluster of couches was filled with Dale Earnhardt's crew, the very guys we were battling for the points championship that year. In another cluster was the Kodak team Ernie had just left to join us. There were lots of others, all concerned about Ernie, all wanting to help.''

The scene was a graphic statement about the NASCAR ''family.''

And though they'll fiercely battle him door-handle-to-door-handle, there's little doubt a part of every crew member and driver today would love nothing more than a checkered flag for Jordan Irvan's brave pop.